


In the Moonlight

by Pippin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, ghost story, highwayman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippin/pseuds/Pippin
Summary: “Once,” Yasha began in her cool, level voice, “there was a highwayman.”(See starting note for more information on the "implied/referenced suicide" tag)





	In the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the song The Highwayman by Loreena McKennitt, which in turn is inspired by the poem The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes.
> 
> The "suicide" tag is unrelated to mental health. It is solely an act of sacrifice in an attempt to save someone else's life and is not described in detail. It could potentially be interpreted as not a suicide. A character is described as reaching for something and then another character hears a gunshot.

Eerie moonlight stretched over the open moor, illuminating the open stretches of rock and hardy plant life.  The wind howled, a sound of death and despair, the type of wind that preceded a storm, despite no cloud being in the sky.  The group of people huddled in a small copse of trees, camp set beneath the lashing branches in an attempt to avoid the worst of both the weather and any threats.

Jester shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.  “It’s creepy here.”

Caduceus nodded, twitchy in the way he was only when the threat of undead was involved.  “I get a feeling from this place.”

“There’s a story about this place.”  The voice belonged to Yasha, of all people.  “A ghost story, if you will, from over a hundred years ago.”

“Hell no.”  The voice belonged to Fjord, but the clamoring of the rest of the party overrode him.  All of them gathered around Yasha—Nott cuddled against Jester’s side, Beau stretching out on the ground, Caduceus making a cup of tea.  Sighing, Fjord slipped into the free space between Beau and Caduceus, not wanting to hear a ghost story but also not wanting to be left alone while the ghost story was told.

“Once,” Yasha began in her cool, level voice, “there was a highwayman.”

* * *

Some said that the legend of the highwayman exceeded the truth of him.  Of course, no one could agree on exactly what that legend held, so it was hard to know what the truth even was.  All they knew for sure was that he was the best at what he did.  Many thieves and bandits plied their trade along the roads of the Empire, but only one highwayman trod the moonlit ribbon of road that stretched through the moor.

He was invulnerable, one said.

He could blind his targets with a word, another added.

He is more devil than man, a third.

The innkeeper said nothing as he kept the ale flowing, said nothing as his patrons spoke of the devilish figure that terrorized those travelers he chose as his prey.  No matter the attempts to drag him in, the innkeeper stood aloof, cool blue eyes in an impartial gaze, no more caring than the inn cat who wound his way around the ankles of the patrons.

He was the one who knew the truth, though he was hardly about to admit it.

At night, as the innkeeper locked up, the highwayman arrived, heralded by the ghostly galleon of a full moon on cloudy seas and the wind howling through the trees.

He stood silhouetted in the moonlight, the shadow of a devil in the balcony window of the innkeeper’s room. 

The innkeeper entered, setting the alarm on his door and arching an eyebrow as he looked over the highwayman.

The man was dressed as a flashier version of a gentleman, never mind his career.  His decorated horns curled through specially designated holes in his tricorn hat, a bunch of lace as a cravat at his throat.  His coat was maroon velvet, embroidered here and there with bright thread, and his boots were thigh high.  All of his clothes were perfectly fitted, nary a mark or wrinkle to show he did anything other than laze around.  He wore a pistol on his belt, engraved and laid with gold, although, for all its beauty, it was secondary to the paired scimitars at his waist.  One was silver and shone with reflected light off a subtle snowflake design, while the other was gold and flashy.

The innkeeper rolled his eyes.  “You certainly know how to make an entrance, Mr. Mollymauk.”

Molly spread his arms wide in an overly showy gesture.  “Naturally, Mr. Caleb.”

Caleb walked into Molly’s open arms and was immediately pulled close into a tight hug.  Molly buried his face in Caleb’s hair.

“I’ve missed you.”

Given Molly’s profession, it was hard for him to spend too much time in one place for risk of being spotted there and trapped.  That meant he couldn’t live at the inn with Caleb, couldn’t spend near as much time as he would have liked with the man he loved.

Caleb pulled back, just far enough away to start pressing kisses to Molly’s mouth.

“I’ve missed you too.”  He sank slowly to the floor, gazing up at Molly through his lashes.  “Let me show you?”

Molly fisted a hand in Caleb’s hair.  “I’m certainly not going to stop you.”

* * *

Later, Molly curled into Caleb’s side in bed.  “I wish I could stay.”

“Then do.”

Molly laughed.  “You know that I can’t.  It’s too risky.”

“Just stay in my room.  No one needs to know you’re here.”  Caleb kissed Molly’s head.  “Just for a day or two?  I’ll bring you everything and it might be boring but you’ll be _here_.  I want to wake up next to _you_ , not to the memory of you and the promise you’ll return.”  He gave Molly his best pleading eyes.

It was enough, as Molly melted.  “Okay, okay.  I’ll stay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

“Aw,” Jester cooed.  “They love each other so much!  It’s just like _Tusk Love_!”

Fjord made a grumbling noise but was silenced by Nott.

Yasha just waited, calm demeanor unshaken by the comments of her audience.  Once they were settled, she continued.

* * *

Molly ended up staying for nearly a week, a week of hiding in Caleb’s room and spending nights together.  Both were happy, if not a little bored on Molly’s end.  The boredom didn’t really matter, though—they were together, falling into bed at the end of the day, _together_.

It came time, however, for Molly to leave.  He kissed Caleb sweetly, not wanting to pull away.

Caleb went to the chest at the foot of his bed, pulling a few lengths of thread.  Two strands of orange, two of purple, and he bound them together to form two love-knots, one of each color.

Molly recognized what the symbolism was.  Orange for Caleb, purple for Molly.  So he took one of the knots, looping it around Caleb’s wrist and binding it off, forming a bracelet.  The other he took and wrapped around his horn, adding it to the shiny metal and gems dangling there already.

Caleb ran his fingers over the thread, touch gentle as his eyes.  He kissed Molly once more, then turned away to sit on the bed, gaze sad but resigned.  “Come back soon.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Molly promised.  “I’ll come back to you by moonlight, no matter what hell I have to fight through.”

* * *

Kosh Clearbarker had heard tell of the highwayman, but he had put no stock in them.  After all, he traveled with a heavy guard of skilled fighters and mages—none could get past them.

The highwayman, however, took them by surprise.  The purple-skinned devil slipped past everyone, appearing in the carriage suddenly. 

Clearbarker swore softly.  He hadn’t thought to protect himself against teleportation, and now that was coming back to bite him.

The highwayman smiled.  “You know what I want.  Let me have it and no one has to be harmed.”

He knew what was wanted.  The highwayman was, after all, a highwayman.

As Clearbarker emptied his pockets, he noticed the thread.  It didn’t stand out, just a simple winding mix of color among the much flashier jewelry, and that was what made it noticeable, in some odd way.  He pushed it aside, though, more concerned with the current situation of robbery.

He didn’t think about the thread again until he got to the inn.  There wasn’t much in the way of staff, with the innkeeper helping serve patrons himself.  And as the innkeeper set down ale and a plate, his sleeve rode up, revealing a bracelet.  The swirl of thread was familiar, the same as the highwayman had worn on his horn.  It could have been a mere coincidence, but the color combination was hardly a common one, never mind the love-knot bound in the center.  He hadn’t seen that knot in the highwayman’s thread, but that didn’t matter.  Between the color combination and the proof that it was symbolic of a relationship, it had to be the same.

The next morning dawned bright, the hot sun beating down on Clearbarker as he went to the home base for the Crownsguard in the town.

“I think I know how to catch the highwayman.”

The Crownsguard at the desk sat up, straight and interested.  “Tell us.”

* * *

Caleb looked up as the Righteous Brand group poured into his tavern.  He didn’t often get groups of soldiers, but it wasn’t unheard of.  He knew what they would want, so he had his cook and kitchen boy start on hearty meals while he himself starting pouring tankards of ale.

As Caleb brought as many tankards as he could carry to the table the soldiers fell silent.  Caleb, though, didn’t particularly care.  He was used to patrons discussing a variety of things, some of which were meant to be kept secret.  It wasn’t his job to care, just to keep the ale flowing and to make sure everyone paid their tabs.

The soldiers paid their tabs, as well as for rooms, so Caleb was confident enough going up to bed.  After setting his alarm he stepped out onto his balcony, looking for Molly’s form in the moonlight, both hoping and not to see him.  On one hand, of course he wanted to see his love.  On the other, his inn was full of soldiers, and while Molly could sneak in easily enough, it wasn’t worth the risk.

Caleb’s alarm triggered in his mind a split second before he registered the sound of the door slamming open.  He spun, immediately calling fire to his hands.  He didn’t often use his magic anymore beyond small cantrips and his alarm, but it was still there for emergencies, and this definitely qualified.

He was barely able to fire off anything before the soldiers were there.  He was one skinny man and there were five of them just in the room alone—Caleb could see more in the hallway.  There was no fight, fair or otherwise.

A gag was shoved into Caleb’s mouth even as his hands were bound.  The soldiers dragged him out onto his balcony and pushed him to his knees, binding him to the railings there.

Caleb faced out onto the road, watching it gleam in the moonlight.  Molly would come along that road, and he was putting it together.  The soldiers were here to kill Molly.  They had always known this was a chance, but at the same time Caleb had never thought it would happen like this.

The soldiers laughed as they positioned Caleb, joking about his position on his knees at their feet.  Then, still sniggering, they positioned one of their muskets against him, making sure that if he warned Molly he wouldn’t live to see the results of his warning.

Caleb pulled his head back as the barrel jammed into the soft flesh beneath his chin, setting off a minor panic attack.  It was as much a response to the cold metal digging into his skin as it was to the situation as a whole.  He was captured, bait to spring the trap that would finally bring down the infamous highwayman that was Mollymauk Tealeaf.  That would bring down the man Caleb loved.

The clatter of hoofbeats in the distance caught Caleb’s attention.  None of the soldiers seemed to notice the distant sound, but, then again, they were far more interested in taunting Caleb.  They didn’t need to watch out into the distance for Molly.  They had the thing he would go to hell for.  He would come to them.

A shadowed figure crested the hilltop.  Caleb could tell even from this distance that it was Molly.  He had spent enough time looking for that same silhouette from this same balcony; he was an expert in recognizing it.  Molly was coming, which meant he was riding straight into the trap set for him.

Caleb’s fingers twitched.  They had taken his ability to cast spells, but that didn’t mean all hope was lost.  He could still warn Molly, still give him time to escape.  All it would take was a little more reach than he currently had.

One of the soldiers noticed Caleb’s struggle against the ropes and laughed.  “You’re not going to be able to get free,” he taunted.

Caleb wasn’t trying to get free.  That wasn’t it at all.  Nevertheless, he continued to fight against the rope, feeling them cut into his wrists.  The moisture running down his skin could have been sweat or blood from the struggle; he wasn’t sure.  It didn’t matter.

Finally, _finally_ , he reached his quarry. 

* * *

Molly was speeding towards the inn, excited to see his love.  He had barely been away a handful of days, but that didn’t matter.  He missed Caleb the instant the other man was out of his sight.

As he came over the hill, within eyeshot of the inn, the fierce _crack_ of a gunshot shattered the still night air.

Molly immediately wheeled his horse away.  He didn’t know the source of the sound, but he knew not to head towards it.  He hadn’t stayed alive this long in such a dangerous profession by rushing headlong into known danger.  Caleb would understand the wait, would appreciate it.  He had always said he would rather wait and have Molly return alive than see him immediately and dead.

There was a safe house a bit away, a family of gnomes Molly had once taken pity on and paid their debts so they wouldn’t lose their children.  As a result, the family would do about anything for him and had offered their home as a place for him to lay low when needed. 

Molly made his way there, heart racing.  He was most acquainted with the adrenaline rush of danger, though that never made it any easier to deal with.

The family was asleep when Molly arrived, though that was no matter.  They’d had this discussion before, so Molly stabled his horse, left a note saying he was there, and crawled into the small attic room reserved for him.

Sleep was hard to come, given the pounding of his heart, but it came all the same.  The next morning Molly was woken by one of the children of the family.

“Mama and Papa need to talk to you,” the little girl said solemnly.

Molly frowned but followed her down the ladder to the kitchen.  Once there, the mother of the family smiled at her daughter and sent her outside with her siblings, then gestured for Molly to sit at the table.

It felt a lot like Molly was in trouble, but the family had always known what he did.  It was possible that they didn’t want him around putting them in danger anymore, which was fair, but it didn’t feel like that.  The look the couple was giving him wasn’t that of getting ready to throw him out.

The father took a deep breath.  “I don’t know how to preamble this, so I won’t.  The innkeeper died last night.  He was found bound with a Righteous Brand musket beside him.”

Molly’s heart stopped.  It took him a few painful moments to realize that he wasn’t breathing.  Caleb was dead.

“Are you sure?”  His voice didn’t sound like his own.  It was thin and reedy, his stuttering breaths interrupting the words.

The answering nod was enough to shatter Molly.  

He had to go.

With scarce a thought for his own wellbeing, Molly rushed back towards the inn, no more on his mind than destroying those who had killed his Caleb.

He should have known that there would be muskets waiting for him.  That even with his magic he could never take on an entire group of soldiers.  That there was no hope for survival, for getting back at the ones who had taken his love.

It didn’t matter. 

As Molly lay dying in a pool of his own blood in the road, his final thought was that at least he would see Caleb again.

* * *

Yasha took a deep breath before continuing.  “It’s said that on nights when the moon is full and the wind howls the highwayman goes back to see his love.”

“That’s so _sad_ ,” Jester whispered.  “They both died for the man they loved.”

Yasha nodded, eyes dark and sad, before turning away.

No one said any more about it.

* * *

A few days later they arrived at a small inn.  The moon shone as a ghostly galleon in a cloudy sky-sea as they stabled their horses and cart.

As they approached the inn door a tiefling stepped up beside them.  His purple skin and ostentatious coat shone under the moonlight, and, at a closer look, it became obvious that he was, in fact, not at all alive.

Caduceus automatically cast Turn Undead and the tiefling retreated, a doleful look on his face.

That look was returned by another ghost on an upper balcony.  This one was a human man, red hair wild around his face and a cat draped around his shoulders.

Jester dragged at Caduceus’ arm.  “I think it’s the innkeeper and the highwayman,” she said in a stage whisper.  “You should let him in.”

Caduceus did not look at all convinced, but, all the same, he let Jester pull him away.  With a grateful look, the tiefling slipped in past the party and into the inn.  A few moments later he reappeared on the upper balcony, pulling the ghost of the man close.

Yasha watched with a sad look on her face, while Jester murmured about how romantic it was that they got to be together even after death.

* * *

Molly nosed at the joint of Caleb’s jaw and neck as he watched the small party enter the inn.  Once they were through the door he pulled Caleb close once again, and then into the room, pushing him down on the bed.

“I came to you in the moonlight,” he whispered, and then said no more.

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify: in this Caleb and Molly do not exist as members of the Nein. They only exist in the past. Yasha does not know their names or the specifics of the story. She is basically telling the song, with minor alterations.


End file.
